Читать книгу The Boy Who Wanted a Dog - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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Two days later Donald had quite an adventure! It was all because of a kitten. He was walking home from school, swinging his satchel, and saying “Hallo” to all the dogs he met, when he suddenly saw a kitten run out of a front gate. It was a very small one, quite black, fluffy and round-eyed.

“I’ll have to take that kitten back into its house, or it will be run over!” thought Donald, and began to run. But someone else had seen it too—the dog across the road. Ha—a kitten to chase! What fun!

And across the road sped the dog, barking. The kitten was terrified, and tried to run up a nearby tree—but it wasn’t in time to escape the dog, who stood with his fore-paws on the trunk of the tree, snapping at the kitten’s tail and barking.

“Stop it! Get down!” shouted Donald, racing up. “Leave the kitten alone!”

The dog raced off. Donald looked at the terrified kitten, clinging to the tree-trunk. Was it hurt?

He picked it gently off the tree and looked at it. “You poor little thing—the dog has bitten your tail—it’s bleeding. Whatever can I do? I’ll just take you into the house nearby and see if you belong there.”

But no—the woman there shook her head. “It’s not our kitten. I don’t know who it belongs to. It’s been around for some time, and nobody really wants it. That’s why it’s so thin, poor mite.”

“What a shame!” said Donald, stroking the frightened little thing. It cuddled closer to him, digging its tiny claws into his coat, holding on tightly. It gave a very small mew.

“Well—I’d better take it home,” thought Donald. “I can’t possibly leave it in the street. That dog would kill it if he caught it! But whatever will Mother say? She doesn’t like cats.”

He tucked it gently under his coat and walked home, thinking hard. What about that old tumble-down shed at the bottom of the garden? He could put a box there with an old piece of cloth in it for the kitten—and somehow he could manage to make the door shut so that it would be safe.

“You see, your tail is badly bitten,” he said to the kitten, whose head was now peeping out of his coat. “You can’t go running about with such a hurt tail. I’ll have to get some ointment and a bandage.”

Donald thought he had better not take the kitten into the house. There might be a fuss. So he took the little thing straight to the old shed at the bottom of the garden. He saw an old sack there and put it into a box. Then he put the kitten there, and stroked it, talking in the special voice he kept for animals—low and kind and comforting. The kitten gave a little purr.

“Ah—so you can purr, you poor little thing! I shouldn’t have thought there was a purr left in you, after your flight this morning!” said Donald. “Now I’m going to find some ointment and a bandage—and some milk perhaps!”

He shut the shed door carefully, and put a big stone across the place where there was a hole at the bottom. Then he went down to the house. “Is that you, Donald?” called his mother. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes! Good! There would be time to find what he wanted and go quickly back to the shed. He ran into the kitchen, which was empty—his mother was upstairs. Quickly he went to the cupboard where medicines and ointments were kept, and took out a small pot and a piece of lint.

Then he took an old saucer, went to the larder, and poured some milk into it. He tiptoed out of the kitchen door into the garden, thankful that no one had seen him.

Up to the old shed he went. The kitten was lying peacefully in the box, licking her bitten tail.

“I wouldn’t use your rough little tongue on that sore place,” said Donald. “Let me put some ointment on it. It will feel better then. Perhaps it’s a good thing, really, you’ve licked it—it’s your way of washing the hurt place clean, I suppose. Now, keep still—I won’t hurt you!”

And, very gently, he took the kitten on to his knee and stroked it. It began to purr. Donald dipped his finger into the ointment and rubbed it gently over the bitten place. The kitten gave a sudden yowl of pain and almost leapt off his knee!

“Sorry!” said Donald, stroking it. “Now keep still while I wrap this bit of lint round your tail, and tie it in place.”

The kitten liked Donald’s soft, gentle voice. It lay still once more, and let the boy put on the piece of lint—but when he tied it in place, it yowled again, and this time managed to jump right off his knee to the ground!

Donald had put the saucer of milk down on the floor when he had come to the shed, and the kitten suddenly saw it. It ran to it in surprise, and began to lap eagerly, forgetting all about its hurt tail.

The boy was delighted. He had bound up the bitten tail, and had given the kitten milk—the two things he had come to do. He bent down and stroked the soft little head.

“Now you keep quiet here, in your box,” he said. “I’ll come and see you as often as I can.”

He opened the door while the kitten was still lapping its milk, shut it, and went up the garden. He was happy. He liked thinking about the tiny creature down in the shed. It was his now. It was a shame that nobody had wanted it or cared for it. What a pity his mother didn’t like cats! If she had loved it, it could have had such a nice home.

“I’ll have to find a home for it,” he thought. “I’ll get its tail better first, and then see if I can find someone who would like to have it!”

The kitten drank a little more milk, climbed back into its box, sniffed at the lint round its tail, and went sound asleep. Sleep well, little thing—you are safe for the night!